Carried by the Talon Fighter, Peter soon arrived in the heart of Wakanda with the "Black Popsicle" T'Challa in tow. By now, the Wakandan Royal Guard had already received news of the Prince's capture.
As Peter breached the holographic shield, he was met by a massive contingent of bald, spear-wielding female guards—the Dora Milaje—staring at him with incredibly conflicted expressions.
In fact, the guards were stuck in a dilemma. If they attacked, they risked accidentally shattering their own prince into "frozen nini-flakes."
If they didn't attack, watching an outsider parade through their streets carrying their heir like a trophy was a source of unbearable shame.
Just as the atmosphere reached a breaking point, a voice—aged and heavy with authority—echoed through the plaza.
"Stand down. Make way for our... guest."
An elderly man in ornate robes walked forward slowly, accompanied by an equally noble woman. It was King T'Chaka and Queen Ramonda.
T'Chaka looked up at the hovering Peter and then at his frozen son. A flash of complex emotion crossed his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a king's steady reason.
He had long outgrown impulsive rage; he could tell this intruder had no intention of sparking a war to the death.
That meant everything was negotiable.
Showing none of the arrogance typical of a monarch, T'Chaka spoke with an air of diplomatic equality. "Powerful traveler from afar, I am T'Chaka, King of Wakanda.
My son is young and hot-headed; he has offended you. I offer my apologies on his behalf and am willing to pay the price for his recklessness."
Before Peter could respond, a boisterous, arrogant voice erupted from the back of the crowd:
"T'Chaka, you truly have grown old! Look at you, bowing and scraping before an enemy. Are you going to grant an outsider's every whim just because your son fell into his hands? A man like you is no longer fit for the blessing of the Panther God—you are no longer fit to be King!"
The air in the plaza curdled instantly. Even T'Chaka's face darkened with frustration. He cursed the Jabari Tribe in his heart. Of all the times to start trouble, M'Baku chose this moment?
The man stepping forward was indeed M'Baku, leader of the isolationist Jabari. While a hero in other stories, here he was a "frog at the bottom of a well," clinging to ancient traditions.
The Jabari detested Vibranium technology, priding themselves only on raw physical power, which left them ignorant of how far the outside world—and Peter—had progressed.
M'Baku ignored Peter entirely, focusing his white-toothed sneer on T'Chaka. "If you are too senile to sit on that throne, T'Chaka, I wouldn't mind taking the burden from you and becoming the new King of this nation!"
The Dora Milaje tightened their grips on their vibranium spears. T'Chaka's wife and daughter glared at M'Baku with pure fury.
T'Chaka himself remained silent, his head bowed. He knew he was past his prime and likely no match for M'Baku in a physical duel.
More importantly, he feared a civil conflict would expose Wakanda's internal fractures to the powerful outsider.
Into this stifling tension, a lazy, arrogant voice cut through the silence:
"Where did this stray dog come from? While I'm negotiating with the King, what right does a piece of trash like you have to butt in?"
The voice wasn't loud, but it hit the crowd like a thunderclap. Everyone turned in shock toward the source: the intruder "kidnapping" their prince!
The Wakandan warriors felt the situation spiraling into a chaotic mess. M'Baku was the recognized second-strongest warrior in Wakanda, leading the most fearless fighters in the land. This outsider just called him a stray dog?
If they fought, whose side would the guards even take? Supporting M'Baku felt like slapping the King. Supporting the outsider... the guy who currently had the Prince on ice? That was practically "suicide by logic."
M'Baku whipped his head around, his bull-like eyes glaring at Peter with murderous intent. "Outsider! If you have the guts, say that again—"
BOOM!
Before he could finish, a terrifying aura erupted from Peter.
It was a physical manifestation of will—Conqueror's Haki. The shockwave swept across the plaza, acting as a mental hammer that left everyone dizzy and gasping.
Then came the sound. Thud. Thud. Thud.
The proud Wakandan warriors, who valued dignity over life, found their legs buckling uncontrollably. Those with weaker wills felt their eyes roll back as they collapsed into unconsciousness.
And M'Baku? As the one who had dared to challenge a "King," he received the full brunt of the impact.
M'Baku was a powerhouse in his own right, but Conqueror's Haki isn't something one can train for—it is the direct manifestation of a ruler's spirit.
Against Peter, who had floored the Hulk and dominated the Earth's strongest, what piece of Oreo did M'Baku think he was?
M'Baku felt his knees trembling violently. He clamped his hands onto his thighs, trying to resist the crushing weight of this "Royal Command." But against a true King's Will, his individual resistance was pathetic.
Despite gritting his teeth so hard they nearly shattered, he finally collapsed into a standard "five-body-to-the-ground" kowtow at Peter's feet.
Peter looked down at him, his voice as cold as the ice encasing T'Challa. "What? I called you a stray dog. Do you have an objection?"
M'Baku's mind was a blank slate of primal terror. Every time he tried to talk back, his survival instinct screamed at him to shut up.
Finally, his mental defenses crumbled completely. With tears streaming down his face, he choked out a response:
"No... no objection."
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